Scarlet Soprano
by beneathmyskin
Summary: A tale of the un sung soprano. The woman whose past was filled with triumph, failure, and redemption comes into the light.
1. Beginnings

**Author's Note: **Ok, now I know that not a lot of people like Carlotta. Its basic nature, who likes a diva (in all reality)? So, therein all my thinking, I thought of a Carlotta phan fiction (sad pun… ); I don't want to give a lot away, but I hope I make Carlotta's past a little more tragic to make the Diva a wee bit more likeable. Read on and drop a review if you want.

Teresa is my Beta reader for this chapter and she rocks.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Carlotta, who is actually owned by Gaston Leroux and Sir Andrew Lloyd Webber; I do own a pencil though….

Open your eyes to the love around you  
You may feel you're alone  
But I'm here still with you  
You can do what you dream

Listen to the Rain Evanescence

The warm Spain day brought the dark blanket of clouds rolling over the horizon. Carlotta sat at the edge of her window and gazed out to the bay. How serene the gentle rolling waves were. The fishermen were bringing their boats in from a long day at sea, tossing their catch to shore.

Spain

For all of its beauty and lively culture, Carlotta hated Spain. Her home country, the place where her flesh was created and where her ash would seep into the earth, but her passion against her own country was shallow and meaningless. Spain gave her family all the amenities that her family ever needed and more. In a ruthless backlash, she never saw her father. Who knew if he was even alive? Every few days, a courier would come with that weeks pay, and her mother would take it.

Because of Spain she forgot her father's name.

But tonight was not a night to speak or even think of such matters. The grand ball at Liceu was tonight, and the managers were going to be there. The managers that were going to make her a prima donna.

'Senorita?' Carlotta twisted her head lazily back to her door. Luciana, her family's maid, stood at her door, awaiting commands for whatever duty.

'Mhmm, Luciana,' she stretched out on her day bed like a lazy cat awaking from its afternoon nap, 'Please fetch my dress from Carmen. I know the little brat stole it.' Another thing she hated, her smaller twelve-year-old sister Carmen. She, at the delicate age of sixteen, was a proper lady of aristocratic nature. A true prima donna in the making. Luciana nodded as she scurried back down the long hall, intent on her task.

Hazily shutting her bedroom door, she gazed into her open closet, pondering what corset and under dress would charm the managers the most. At random, picking the first one she saw, Carlotta opened her changing screen and quickly undressed from her red robe. Slipping on her white chemise and long lace under skirt she stepped out, awaiting Luciana to return with her dress. The maid softly tapped on the door, waiting for Carlotta's voice.

'Come in.' Luciana carried the large orange and red ball gown dripping in layers of the best silk and velvet.

'Ah! Perfect! I assume _she_ gave it to you with no trouble?' Carlotta walked over to her screen again with the maid behind her. Draping the ball gown on the near by chair, Luciana grabbed Carlotta's corset and started the taunting task of lacing the undergarment up.

'She gave in with some persuasion,' Carlotta smirked to herself, sucking in a gasp of air. Each tie on the corset constricted her chest a little more each time.

'_Beauty is never easy,'_ she thought to herself as the last row of ribbon was tightly tied. This corset pushed everything up, making her already large breasts seem increasingly larger. Satisfied, Luciana started the daunting task of placing each layer of silk and velvet on Carlotta's frame. Standing erect as if in the Spanish armada, the layers of scarlet dress came to become a ball gown to envy that of a queen's.

With one last bow tied in the back, Luciana rubbed her sore hands as she dashed away the beads of sweat on her brow. Carlotta turned as the heavy fabric swayed with her weight. She giggled in delight as if a small child receiving gifts at Christmas. Prancing around her room, she took a long gaze in the mirror.

'Perfection! A little rouge, some perfume, my grandmother's jewels, and then we'll see who can beat me in auditions!' Carlotta laughed again, brushing her fingers through her thick, black curls. Luciana smiled to herself, better to enjoy it now.

'I will tell your mother to fetch the carriage then?' Luciana inquired, stepping out of the doorway. Carlotta nodded, walking to her vanity. She went through her countless diamonds to find the fiery red ruby necklace that was the size of a gold coin. Some old family heirlooms and her new joy, the diamond ring that her aunt bought her, was piled on to make her envy a princess. A thin veil of rouge and some strong French perfume completed her façade as she strutted slowly down the staircase to her mother's library. Standing in the doorway, Carlotta cleared her throat softly, but loud enough to catch her mother's ears. She turned with wide eyes.

'Oh Carlotta, you look dazzling!' her voice was so sincere, like always.

'Only to make you proud Mama.' She received a warm embrace from her mother, but just barely reached her. Rebeca was a classic Spanish woman, short in statue, but a hot temper to match. She took great pride in her girls, even though Carmen was the more intelligent of the two, Carlotta had the talent of her grandmother to match.

'Those managers, they can be harsh hija, so take criticism in stride. There is no other way the Liceu could not accept you!' Rebeca smiled, showing her daughter to the door, placing her invitation her hand along with a handkerchief. The handkerchief was actually an old scarf used to look dramatic while singing.

'**Carmen, bid your sister good bye for the love of God!**' Carlotta was floored by her mother's powerful voice, but not surprised. Slowly, the sulking Carmen slowly came to the entranceway, holding a book to her nose the whole time. Her mother glared daggers as she obliviously continued to read.

'I'm sure you'll get an audition **right Carmen?' **Rebeca snapped her voice, only for a muffled, 'Yes,' to pass her lips. Carlotta rolled her eyes at her sister and trotted for the door once again. Opening the larger oak doors, there stood a carriage with a prestigious driver in the front. Luciana bustled out to help her in the carriage, but something seemed to be shaking her soul. Carlotta cared not as Carmen and her mother stood at the edge of the doorway, Carmen still engrossed with her book.

'Make me proud Carlotta. Give the Guidicelli family the fame it at last desires,' Rebeca gave her daughter once last kiss on her flushed cheeks and smiled. Carlotta smiled, turning to her carriage. With the help of two maids, she and her dress made it into the small chamber. One last glance and wave to her small and humble family gave Carlotta the confidence she needed. Luciana paid the carriage driver a healthy sum before slipping a note in his hand, nodding to the driver's instant wink.

The carriage drove off, leaving the Guidicelli family full of hope to redeem the family name.

It would be their only chance.


	2. Fade to Black

**Authors Note:** The rating has been upped for later chapters, and for you're information, the Liceu was a very famous Spanish Opera house in Barcelona. Instead of having managers, I believe the Societat de Propietaris owned it instead of managers. Hope this clears some things up. Reviews are welcome!

**Edit: **The best beta reader in the world, Ms. Connie Welsh, with a fine-toothed comb straightened some things out. Sorry for the double post . I'm impatient.

* * *

Carlotta gazed out of her carriage door window, disregarding the fact that her escort was constantly glancing at her chest. All of the escorts in the family were abhorrent perverts, but did their job while receiving a decent pay.

'Senorita?' Carlotta snapped out of her thought, setting her eyes to the rather bulk escort.

'Yes?' she slithered, brushing her black curls from her face. The escort nervously twirled his fingers around the fabric of his suit.

'Ah, well…' his voice trailed as his eyes glanced out his window, 'Pardon me, never mind.' Carlotta rolled her eyes. How strange this man was, how strange this whole trip had been.

You could tell an opera house was near; almost every building was either a flat, or a shopping stand. The Liceu was in a peculiar part of Barcelona, farther away from the wealthy part of town then most opera houses, but it was along the Las Ramblas, the busiest street in all of Barcelona. Carlotta grew anxious as the driver slowly rounded the main square, following many other carriages. Of course, every aristocrat and wealthy person in all of Barcelona was at this ball; flaunt your riches, show off a new husband, or simply catch up on old gossip. It was fundamental. Making one adjustment to her dress, she awaited for her driver to open the door.

Silence

Becoming impatient she glared at her escort, 'Go out and see why he is taking so long. I **refuse **to enter by myself.' The escort nodded quickly before climbing out the right side door, promptly closing it. A few muttered words later, she saw her door crack open and an unfamiliar man hold out his hand.

'Pardon senorita, we had a slight problem. The managers await.' How handsome and sophisticated his voice was, much more refined then a driver. She dashed away any doubts and placed her hand in his. She breathed in the thick, humid air, as she flaunted her best smile. Stepping onto the even pavement, she fluffed her ball gown and strutted onto the gaping crowd.

Carlotta heard her name uttered amongst the crowd; jealous women and exuberant men gawking at her. She waved to the crowd before being hustled inside the grand entrance.

And what a ball it was!

Every candle, every fire lit up the room as it glowed the soft hue of gold. Elaborate statues were polished to perfection, all of angels singing to the heavens above. Ivory steps gleamed as the soft hum of music rung loudly. A huge table, clad in crimson clothe gleamed with enough food to feed the whole city.

Carlotta cared not of the party, nor the absolutely dashing men, or even the delectable food.

'_Where are those managers? Or, actually, which one of the Societat de Propietaris members can I charm?' _Waltzing around, smiling to ever person who she even remotely heard of, her mouth became tired and her attitude no better.

Suddenly an idea struck her. Wherever the soprano was, her little entourage was not far behind. The soprano of the Liceu was easy to spot. A classic diva with a fiery Austrian accent. She traveled from Vienna, practically where Mozart thrived, to pursue her career, well, not without sleeping with a few men first. Maria was her name.

Around the bustle of dancers, she spotted the diva flirting with the rich patron of some opera house Carlotta did not care to know. Then she saw Adrian, the youngest and most mysterious of the managers, standing not three feet from the diva. Carlotta always had a suspicion that he fancied her a bit, but never confronted him.

This would be beyond perfect.

Smoothing out the wrinkles in her gown and causally standing at perfect posture, her chest prompted forward. She stood at the bottom the long ivory staircase, occasionally glancing at him, giving an enticing smile. He barely knew she was there. After a few more tries, she slumped over, stomping up the stairs madly. Lifting her skirts, she again gave him a few desirable looks and a sultry smile or two, still nothing. He was too involved with the diva to notice. Becoming heavily aware that flirting was not the answer. She sauntered to his side, glazing her eyes over the entire room.

He finally noticed her.

'Carlotta, it is odd seeing you here. I was almost certain you would be intently staring at some young patron,' he dryly smiled. His witty humor was more of a spark then to entertain.

'Seems the time we have been parted have not changed you Adrian. How does being twenty-one feel? You are quickly approaching the age of elders.' She too had that witty humor that never ceased to get a smile out of any naïve soul. Adrian turned to face her; his rather handsome features glowed under the soft candlelight. He had clean-shaven face with chestnut hair that grew in locks and curls atop his head. Crystal green eyes carried all of his emotions, as an aura of musty cologne lingered in the air around him.

He would be so very easy to charm.

'I wouldn't say elder, senorita.' He sipped his wine; the crimson liquid reached his lips being sucked in by his full lips. Carlotta intently stared, looking at every mannerism to see if alcohol and overcome him yet.

'So,' he said in a half whisper, 'how has my soprano been? Is your mother well?' He did not glance back, creating small talk that only filled the gap between the two of them.

'She is well,' Carlotta said simply, tooling with the edge of her bodice.

'_Jesus Christ just ask him Carlotta!' _She thrashed around herself, summing up words. With a silent breath she spoke.

'Dear Adrian, I'm sure you know my singing talents have been well trained since I last sung. The operas have been beckoning for my incredible talent, but Barcelona is my home and I would hate to leave it. So, if it was in your power, do you think you could-if it was permitted of course-to maybe get me an audition for a part in the next opera?' A little fib never hurt anyone, especially if it brought honor back to her family.

A long thick silence filled the air as he took a long sip of wine.

'That damned wine…' 

He looked as if he was going to speak, but paused his breath and took yet another sip of wine.

Carlotta's heart was going to break out of her chest if an answer was not said.

Adrian looked at her with those beautiful green eyes and smiled.

'I would make you the Prima Donna if I could.'

Utter shock overcame her. She didn't know whether to be ecstatic, confused, engrossed, or surprised.

'Thank you,' were all the words that slipped past her lips, a thousand thoughts tossing her mind. Adrian took her hand and gently kissed it, the sensation of his warm lips upon her skin overwhelming.

It suddenly seemed very warm.

Adrian's thin fingers wrapped around another glass of dark plum wine. She graciously took it, lifting it for a small toast.

'To success,' she said softly.

'To a new Prima Donna,' he softly knocked his glass to hers, the ringing sound lingering in her ears. She sipped the wine, noticing its odd taste.

'Its from Italy, aged for fifty years.' Adrian's voice went from a normal rough tone, to smooth, sultry tone. Carlotta continued to sip until the glass was done. He took it from her, glancing into her eyes.

'A dance?' He took her hand and gave a sensual gaze, a fire burning. She suddenly came to reality, partially, as the music suddenly turned into a soft trio of strings. The melody lulling in the thick air. She nodded as he swept her onto the ballroom floor. His hand melded into hers. Suddenly, she realized that they were swaying, yes, partially swaying, but mostly spinning. Carlotta didn't know how to dance, but that didn't seem to matter. Every elegant step was inline with the next, a truly harmonious dance.

She couldn't stop looking into his eyes those eyes said something. If only she knew.

All of the strings drained to the simple deep cello.

Carlotta felt trapped in a spell, each step leaving behind a slowly impression on her mind.

Adrian smirked, whispering softly into her ear.

'Remember this,' and then she faded to black.

* * *

Rebeca sat in the parlor, gazing into the dancing flames of the dimly lit fireplace. She wondered what her beloved daughter was doing.

'_Flirting with a young patron I would only imagine,' _she smiled warmly, thinking of her own youth.

Her youth was nothing like her daughter.

Filled with torment and betrayal, Rebeca only found success with her husband. The man she never saw. He was not a father to his children, nor a husband for his wife. He was a strict businessman who occasionally sent letters that Carmen nor Carlotta never saw. Only herself, and occasionally Luciana, the maid she trusted dearly.

'Pardon me Rebeca, but there is someone at the door who wishes to speak with you.' Rebeca turned her head to Luciana whose tone was rather dull.

'Did they state what they needed?' She was rather curious, and expected it to be a messenger sent by some royal family requesting that Carlotta be in their company, or something in that relevance.

'No,' she said idly. Sighing, the maid showed Rebeca to the door. It was almost bone chillingly quiet. Cracking the huge oak doors, there stood two men, looking rather official.

'May I help you-?' her words were cut short by a sharp pain in her neck, as if someone had stabbed her. She fell to the ground, taking one last look up at Luciana. She was crying.

* * *

**I am horrible at cliffhangers, just a note.**


	3. Questions

**Authors Note:** Oh god, this chapter is well, not very good on my standards, but it is a very needed chapter. I tried to write this chapter every which way, and this was the best way to do so. Again another fault, the amount of updates. I will attempt to make the time between chapters smaller I'll really try. The commenter who wanted to know about Piangi, the answer is yes. He will make a small cameo at the very end.

My reviewers, well, they just all rock XD;

**Disclaimer: **I do not equal Sir Webber or Monsieur Leroux therefore I own nothing. I do own, in fact, own and currently reside in a cardboard box with a slushy machine and an Internet connection.

* * *

_But through my tears breaks a blinding light  
Birthing a dawn to this endless night  
Arms outstretched, awaiting me  
An open embrace upon a bleeding tree_

'Lies' Evanescence

* * *

She saw a light, a dim warm firelight that seemed to glow on her eyelids. For just a moment, she felt peace. As if nothing had happened, but then an intense throbbing from her head and a pressure on both of her wrists caused Carlotta to return back into reality. Her head flooded with memories, rambles of after thoughts. Slowly creeping her eyelids open, the room seemed to be in double. All the objects bathed in a warm firelight seemed to sway slightly, making her head throb even more.

Then Carlotta remembered.

Glancing to either of her wrists, she saw they were tied down to a soft feather bead on either side with a thick raspy rope. Not caring if she could see straight, Carlotta flailed her arms up ward, feeling the sting of the rope on her skin. Closing her eyes tightly, she didn't even try to move; in her heart of hearts, Carlotta knew her attempts were useless. Falling into a sleepless dream, she waited. What she waited for was the question.

Then, that voice came again.

'Our lady wakes,' it slithered with such elegance, it envied its imitator. Carlotta attempted to open her eyes again, still to see everything in a haze. Cringing, she didn't even glance to the man that spoke to her; the world was all a blur now.

Footsteps rung in her ears as the warm touch of that voice sent shivers down her back.

'Drink this,' the cold rim of a wine glass touched her lip as she meagerly opened them, the bitter liquid rushing into her mouth. Resentfully, she swallowed the drink and sat in a blissful comfort for only a moment, before that voice spoke again.

'Open your eyes,' obeying, she did so. Her vision was slightly clearer, but the silhouette of a tall, brown haired man came to mind.

'Adrian?' she wearily said, her voice raspy with fear and confusion. He sat on the bed, which Carlotta was tied on, coming into clearer view.

'Señorita Guidicelli,' he nodded his head, staring at her with those odd eyes, 'You are being kept under protection of my family. Do not ask questions, and do not try to release your self from your bonds, they will come off in time.' Adrian seemed so serious compared to the earlier encounter they had. Yet, he went from innocent to increasing passionate in the time of a glass of wine.

'Wh-what? What do you mean do not ask questions? Adrian, you take me captive, and you ask me not to ask questions!' His cold hands hushed her voice as she began to sob. Carlotta's eyes shot open, thrashing her arms up to rip his hand away. Muffled screams of protest mellowed out when Adrian took his loose hand and wrapped it around her neck.

'I highly suggest you keep silent, Carlotta,' he glanced to her wrists which were now a deep scarlet. Releasing her from his grasp, Adrian tossed a black bundle at her, slowly releasing her wrists from the rope. She did nothing but glare at him.

'Get dressed,' he pointed to the screened off area in the corner of the large bedroom.

'And you are not to leave? It is highly improper to see-'

'And trust you alone? Your gown will be tended to.' She did not move, protesting this decision. Adrian grunted, his breath snarling with agitation. 'Ms. Guidicelli, I am highly aware of Victorian lady. You will be killed if you leave my sight. You will be kidnapped if you do get changed. Do not take assumptions of what the situation is. **Follow my instructions miss, or I will _make_ you follow them, proper lady or common whore.** **You choose**.' His voice chased around the room, leaving Carlotta feeling as small as a child. She uncharacteristically gathered the skirts, and timidly walking to the screen. Adrian turned his head away, brushing the hair from his face.

'_This is the penance you must pay for your father,'_ He thought irately, glancing to the door that lead to his lavish mansion on the outskirts of Barcelona. Adrian wanted to take Carlotta away from her family, to England, to France, somewhere where she could get away from the corruption that befell her family.

Carlotta glanced over her screen, seeing Adrian deep in thought. How easily she could escape, but how? She was not a cunning woman like her sister, or a warm woman like her mother. Charm, that is what possessed her. She clumsily unraveled the layers of lavish silk that took Luciana so long to place on her frame. The ruby that hung around her neck slipped off with the rest of her jewelry. All that Carlotta had now was the little gold cross that her mother gave her as a small child. The dress that Adrian gave her was rather plain, nothing she was used to. It was a simple white dress with a black corset that apparently lay on top. She looked like a gypsy, a horrid, foul gypsy, and it was done on purpose, she imagined. Stepping out from the screen, she saw Adrian deep in thought, gazing heavily at the door. Her mind swirled with questions, but nothing slipped from her lips. It was very evident to her now that Adrian was more then he seemed.

'Pardon me, um, Adrian, sir, I'm finished. You can turn around again,' Carlotta's voice was rather harmoniums, only a hint of the great power that loomed in it. Adrian glanced back, a cold look in his eyes. He stepped up to her, brushing his hand down her neck.

'_No temptation, she's only business, but god, she looks glorious in that dress.' _

'I'm going to travel with you away from here. You will never see your mother again, and we cannot locate the whereabouts of your sister. Carlotta, I…I wish I could tell you the truth, but only until we get you to France will you know the consequences of your so called father.'

'My what?' Carlotta spat bitterly, 'Where's my mother, my sister? Wh-What about Luciana or-or my home? You **expect **me to go with you for some unknown reason. You mention my family, my father, but what does all of this mean? Why was I tied up? Why must I dress like this? **Why can't you tell me anything?' **Carlotta began to sob again, this time, her whole face turned a deep red with anger, and hot tears flowed down her face. She was confused angry, and insulted that this man. This man she barely knew was telling her what lay in her destiny.

Adrian turned away, biting his lip tasting the salty crimson liquid touch his tongue.

'We must depart,' he said flatly. Opening the door, he held his hand out.

Something then in Carlotta snapped, she pushed pasted him and bolted down the hall. Trying to catch her breath as tears soaked her dress. Running down the halls, she sunk down at the edge of the large staircase, slipping down the crimson-carpet. Her frame slammed into the rails, but stopped midway down. Carlotta sat there, hurt, tired, and confused. She didn't faint, she didn't black out, she wept.

A voice soothed her again, just like it did only moments before. It was holding her, embracing her.

It was singing to her.

* * *

(A/N: Remember people, Adrian was a manager of the Opera House. Just a note, put your mind to work. Reviews are always welcome!) 


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